


Bolthole Buddies

by MizJoely



Series: SherlollyPrompts [29]
Category: Bolthole Buddies
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform, Toby the cat fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 14:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: Written for the winterspy as a 2017 Sherlolly Secret Santa fic, based on this Toby HC: Toby the cat hates all the men. But then Sherlock Holmes comes in all cat-hating and broody, and he and Toby get on like a house on fire.





	Bolthole Buddies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewinterspy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewinterspy/gifts).



**Off to a Bad Start**

The first time Sherlock meets Toby is exactly six months after he meets Molly Hooper. He's stunned by the existence of the cat; Molly never has cat hairs on her clothes or scratches on her hands, nor has she ever mentioned having a cat in his hearing. (He discovers her blog after the fact and curses himself for not reading it before that first impromptu visit, but allows Molly to soothe his ruffled feathers by fussing over him and brushing the cat hairs from his trouser legs and fixing him a cup of tea that is vastly superior to the coffee she makes for him at Barts - although, to be fair, it's more likely the coffee than the maker that's at fault.)

The problem is, he isn't a cat person; he much prefers dogs. But he's discovered that Molly Hooper has somewhat of a soothing effect on his thoughts; when he's with her - particularly when he's alone with her away from Bart's - his mind stills. Slows. Just being with her helps him relax enough to connect the dots in whatever case is plaguing him.

So he decides he has to put up with her cat if he wants to continue to use her flat as a bolthole, even after Molly warns him about Toby-the-manhater. Whose disposition Sherlock already witnessed when the cat hissed at him and ran away to hide as soon as Sherlock set foot inside the door. "He's a bit, um, picky about who he likes. He loves my friend Meena and her sister and my other friend Katie, but he's never liked any of the blokes the three of us have brought here." She laughs, somewhat awkwardly. "Especially, erm, the ones I bring round. I'm afraid he's a bit of a man-hater. Sorry."

Sherlock isn't sure why she's apologizing, unless she's personally trained the cat in his alleged man-hating ways. "It's fine," he says as he sits at her kitchen peninsula and blows on his cup of (really, quite superior) tea to cool it. "I'm not particularly fond of cats myself."

That's a bit of an understatement, truth be told. His previous landlady (previous to Mrs. Hudson, not previous to Molly who is in no way, shape or form to be considered his landlady even if he does plan to use her spacious flat as a bolthole now that he's discovered its comforts) kept cats. Nine of the furry little nuisances, to be exact. Three of whom appeared to love him and the rest of whom appeared to hate him with the burning passion of a thousand nuclear reactors. All of whom managed to trip him up at least once a day when he was trying to reach the safety of his third-floor flat. Whether it was out of a desire for his attention or a desire to do him bodily harm, the result was the same.

Thus, he'd reached the very logical conclusion that there was no difference between a cat liking you and a cat hating you. Thus he knew that he would hate Molly's cat no matter how it felt about him. (And whenever it decided to stop lurking suspiciously in the back hall and come into the kitchen and face him like a man. Neutered male. Whatever.)

Thus he is entirely confounded when, on his third visit, he discovers that he and Toby actually have quite a bit in common.

Hating Molly's dates is  _definitely_ one of those things.

**Détente**

Amnesty is declared when a mutual enemy - or rather,  _pair_  of enemies - is agreed upon.

Tom is one of them. That Dog is another

Sherlock is a dog person, no question about it. He is also in a state of mind where he wants Molly's happiness more than he wants his own. Toby will never be a dog person (cat, rather) and he has never put anyone's happiness above his own, at least in Sherlock's mind.

But Tom and That Dog are both trying his patience very severely this evening, and only the fact that Toby is sitting on his lap and purring keeps him from leaving.

That, and Molly's presence, of course.

She isn't always there when the bolthole is needed, but Sherlock knows he's welcome any time. He knows this to be a fact because she told him so before his two-year absence.

Tom and That Dog supposedly understand this as well, and yet…

Tom is pursing his lips and trying not to look like he's itching to ask Molly to throw Sherlock out of the flat. That Dog is perched on his ridiculous pillow with his ridiculous snub nose and his ridiculous fluffy fur sneering at both man and cat sitting on the sofa.

Molly is desperately pretending she doesn't feel the tension in the room.

Toby is making his preference known very aggressively as he butts his head on Sherlock's arm in a demand to be pet.

He's never let Tom pet him without scratching the man, a fact which Molly inadvertently let slip earlier this evening.

Both Sherlock and Toby are very smug about this fact.

They will both be even smugger in about a year's time when Tom and That Dog are both long gone…and Sherlock has moved into Molly's flat whilst keeping Baker Street as a work- and experiment-space.

Because he's made Molly a Solemn Promise never to bring the Work into her home again. Not after Sherrinford and Eurus and that horrible, soul-destroying - not to mention wonderful, soul- _freeing_  - phone call.

Also because Toby will never forgive him if he ever accidentally-on-purpose dyes his fur bright green again.


End file.
